with my new blonde hair—although he likely can’t see it in the dark—there’s a good chance he could think I’m Ivy. I mean, he did shut the door, locking the world out and us in and let’s face it, a girl only goes to a guy’s room for one reason at a frat party—and it’s not to snoop. Plus, he’s been drinking. I’m not sure how much, but there’s a good chance he’s too drunk to know the difference between us.
“I should go.” My God is that my voice? Since when did I ever sound husky? I guess that’s what arousal does to a person’s voice. I force my quivering legs to work, but as I get closer to him, catching his scent, my entire body vibrates in a way it never has before, clearly reacting to the hot-blooded male standing before me.
So what are you going to do about that?
He extends his arm, and captures me around my waist. “Or you could stay,” he says, easily positioning me in front of him, manipulating my body like I weigh no more than a football. Why the hell do I like that so much? Am I really one of those girls who likes when a guy goes all alpha? Oh good God, I might be. His head dips, and his mouth is right there, inches from mine.
Torpedo.
Oh, man, why did that stupid word have to jump into my brain. Oh, probably because I need to make a fast decision—a decision that could very well change me. So what’s it going to be? Am I going to text torpedo to Peyton? Or V-card?
“You want me to stay?” I ask, needing to hear him say it, even though I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he thinks I’m Ivy.
He hesitates for a brief second, and my blood instantly runs cold. Oh, crap, maybe he suddenly realized it’s me, and knows he made a mistake.
“Yes, I want you to stay,” he finally says, his voice a low, husky murmur that slides over my skin and settles deep between my legs. “Tell me you want the same.”
Is this it? The moment I hand over my V-card?
“I want the same,” I say, and lean into him.
Ohmigod, I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.
His hand slides around my neck, and a low tortured moan vibrates around me as he fists my hair and presses his lips to mine. He inches back and asks, “Is that what you were really looking for?”
My mind whirls, races, searches for the truth. On some level was I hoping he’d find me in here and kiss the sanity from my brain, because yeah, what I’m doing isn’t smart. I barely know this guy. Am I really going to get naked with him and hand over my virginity?
“Yes,” I murmur, answering his question as well as my own. He gives me a nudge with his body, backing me until the backs of my knees hit the bed, and that’s when my one working brain cell nudges me. I need to text Peyton. He backs up an inch, reaches over his shoulder and tugs off his shirt, and the second I take in all his hills and valleys, I damn near bite off my tongue. Swallowing hard I lift my phone and he angles his head, confused. “I have to send my friend a text. Girl code.”
“Right,” he says, and I quickly text—torpedo.
I’m about to set my phone down when an eggplant and a thumbs up emoji pop up. A low chuckle climbs out of Landon’s throat. Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to see that. I set my phone down on his nightstand, and take a fueling breath as he closes the distance between us. His body is warm, his fingers hot as he pulls me against him again, and I try not to react like the virgin I am when I feel his hardness press against my stomach.
Strong hands tug on the belt holding the dress together, and a jolt of excitement and nervousness rushes through me.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, as the dress falls away and puddles around my feet. “I need to see you better.”
He makes a move toward his lamp, and I wrap my hand around his arm to stop him. “No lights,” I say, and he hesitates again. “I like this mood better.”
He runs his knuckles down my arms and goosebumps break out on my flesh. God, I love the way this guy touches me. Although I have nothing to compare it to.
“Yeah?” he